


bare-knuckled

by mockturtletale



Series: the lucky ones [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Other, aftermath of physical injury, cuts and scrapes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 08:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1850674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockturtletale/pseuds/mockturtletale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taylor is seeing the aftermath for the first time, and Jordan lies still and watches him learn what Ryan looks like bruised and breakable, cut up and hurt but here with them with his throat bared. Bare-knuckled. Bare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bare-knuckled

Taylor arrives two days later, because time and schedule have nothing on the legendary impatience of Taylor Hall. 

He’s called them both approximately six thousand times in that time, and to their credit they have managed to answer about four of those calls. They’ve also left the apartment on two separate occasions; to attend a mandatory practice and to play a game. 

It’s been forty eight hours of momentous personal achievement for all three of them. 

 

____

 

Ryan is standing in the kitchen in nothing but his boxers, eating cold pizza and scrolling through something on his phone when Jordan’s buzzes in his pocket. 

Jordan’s phone is still in his pocket, untouched, when Ryan speaks without looking up at him ten minutes later. 

“Stop checking me out and read your messages,” Ryan suggests, because he’s a total buzzkill. 

“I can do both,” Jordan says, lifting his hips off the couch to pluck his phone from his back pocket without taking his eyes off of the inviting curve of Ryan’s spine where it dips down into his boxers, because he’s a skilled and accomplished multi-tasker and he always aims to impress Ryan. 

_just got into town_ the message reads, and Jordan is surprised until he remembers that he really has no reason to be. It’s Taylor they’re talking about. 

“Did he --”

“Yep,” Ryan answers, turning away and then bending over to put the pizza box back into the fridge. Jordan’s mouth goes dry. 

“Do you wanna --” 

“Way ahead of you,” Ryan says as he disappears back into the bedroom, because he’s right and he always is. 

 

____

 

They haven’t talked about much of anything at all because they’ve been busy, but it hasn’t seemed like there was anything _to_ talk about. Until now, maybe. 

Ryan crawls onto the bed and lies down with his head on Jordan’s stomach. Jordan pushes his fingers into Ryan’s hair and combs it out of place and then back again. Ryan reaches for his other hand and laces their fingers together. 

The silence feels heavy and Jordan doesn’t want to say anything that might add to the weight of it.

Ryan turns his head and fits his mouth to Jordan’s abdomen, his bottom lip finding a dip in the dimpled muscle of Jordan’s abs. 

They’re both waiting. 

But not for long. 

 

____

 

They haven’t moved much when Taylor arrives, but Jordan feels Ryan shift closer when the door opens. He tilts his body into him; around him.

And then Taylor appears in the doorway. 

He’s paler than they are, for once, and his hair is mussed on one side, faint lines on his cheek from whatever he used as a pillow on the plane. He looks exhausted. He looks amazing. 

“Hey,” he says, uncharacteristically soft; gentle. He moves into the room slowly and tentative, like he’s afraid he might be intruding. 

Jordan reaches for him and Ryan twists next to him, unfurls from the bracket of Jordan’s body. 

Taylor pulls his hoodie up over his head and off and gets on the bed on his knees next to Jordan, his hands finding Ryan like they’re drawn there. He catalogues Ryan’s bruises, his cuts and scrapes and the mottled marks of how he’s been feeling. He touches him slowly and carefully and thoroughly; reading himself in, catching up. 

It’s been a couple days, and Jordan hasn’t thought about Ryan’s fight other than to clean up after it by rubbing salve into his skin every day since. Taylor is seeing the aftermath for the first time, and Jordan lies still and watches him learn what Ryan looks like bruised and breakable, cut up and hurt but here with them with his throat bared. Bare-knuckled. Bare. 

Taylor takes Ryan’s right hand in his own and lifts it to his mouth. 

“Hey, killer,” he whispers, his lips to Ryan’s split knuckles. 

Ryan smiles, and Taylor smiles back. 

 

____  
____  
____


End file.
